Guilt
by Mr. GOP 88
Summary: A personal case, a bitter argument, and finally a tragic event. How could it have come to this? How could I have done this to my best friend? First person POV.
1. The Power of Words

_Hi everyone. I've been working on this story for a while and finally decided to take the plunge and publish it. I hope you enjoy._

**Disclaimer**: _Castle_ and the recognizable characters are property of the folks at ABC and their creators who make a lot more money than I do. This is for pure entertainment purposes

* * *

><p>Chapter 1: The Power of Words<p>

Castle once told us that words can be the deadliest weapon of all. I don't remember the exact details of when we had the conversation; I think it was after a case we had just finished and were sitting around having drinks at the Old Haunt. What I do remember is that exact phrase "_Words can be the deadliest weapons of all."_ Until now, I hadn't really thought about it. To be sure, I've had my share of experience with words being weapons; I've said stupid, hurtful things, and had them said to me. But until now, I haven't really known the truly devastating effect that words can have. Now though, I realize that Castle wasn't just being poetic, he was spot on. Words can be some of the deadliest weapons in the human arsenal. They've caused wars, heartbreaks, and untold misery. As for me, they might have cost me the closest friendship I've ever had.

I'm sitting in the worst of all possible places; a silent hospital room. Well, not exactly silent. There are noises, sounds I wish I didn't have to hear. The _beep, beep, beep_ of a heart monitor, the machine helping him breathe and others doing God only knows what else. The doctor explained it a while ago, but I didn't care enough to pay attention to those sort of details; my focus was elsewhere, on the figure in the hospital bed.

Everyone else left an hour ago, leaving the two of us alone. The City is cloaked in darkness, with only intermittent flashes of lightening to illuminate the sky. Rain lashes against the windows and the rumble of thunder echoes through the night. Appropriately enough a thunderstorm has kicked off outside, as if New York City herself is angry that something this bad could happen to one of her sons. And the City has plenty of reason to be angry; he's in that awful no-man's land between life and death that science has designated as a coma.

As for me, I'm nursing my own terrible wounds. None are physical; those hurt for a time, but they heal. I've been beaten up, shot at, even tortured, but I'd gladly take each and every one of them over what I'm experiencing now. The wounds I have now are emotional wounds, the ones that tear open your heart and sear your soul, leaving permanent scars. I'm in my own personal hell. Riddled with the worst type of guilt, I can't do anything except sit here and engage in well-deserved self-flagellation, knowing that this is all my fault and that if it hadn't been for me, none of this would be happening.

I can't even look at him it hurts so much. _I'm so sorry._ It's a pathetic word really, _sorry_. Intent on making things better and setting things back the way they should be, right now it is the most useless word in the world. And it is so inadequate. I could say sorry every day for the rest of the time I'm on this earth, and it still wouldn't be enough.

I grab his hand and hold it tightly in my own. Normally he has a firm, reassuring grip, but now it is limp, devoid of any of his usual strength. It's wrong. All of this is so very wrong. Because he shouldn't be here. He should be up and around, doing what he does best; protecting and serving. But no, he's lying here in a coma.

All because of me.

Sitting here, waiting for something, anything to happen, I've gone through a whole gamut of emotions. I had some times where a burning rage filled my every being. When that happened, I wanted to shout, throw things, curse out the world, and hit something. Other times it's been a deep sadness. Those episodes have sometimes been accompanied by tears, and the most overwhelming sense of loss I can imagine. I wouldn't wish these feelings on anyone, with one notable exception; the bastard responsible for this, aside from me. Then, there are times like this, where I'm not sad or angry, just completely hopeless and feeling utterly useless. Its times like these that give way to brooding introspection, letting me relive my mistakes.

The others in our unconventional family tried to tell me otherwise, that I couldn't have known or predicted it or any of that. They are comforting words, but also total bullshit. This is my fault, all of it, and I don't need them offering me false comforts. What I need, more than anything, is for him to wake up, for him to be alright. I don't need his forgiveness; I don't deserve it and I'm not going to ask him for it, but I need to know that he's going to be okay.

I replay the events leading up to all of this a hundred times in my head, going over every detail, every facet of what happened. Every time, the same facts, the same series of events come to the forefront. Our argument, the yelling, shouting, and the cruel words we hurled at each other; I would pay any price to take them back. Then, the time after our argument and before he was shot; all it would have taken was one simple phrase; the now useless "I'm sorry" and things would be better. Could it have prevented what happened? I don't know, but at the very least I would have said it before everything did happen. Then there are the awful moments right before it happened, which play like a slow-motion video in my head. The shot, God the shot. I flinch every time I hear it, and I've heard it many, many times. I think of a hundred different what ifs; I listen better, move quicker, anything and everything that could have somehow changed the outcome. Of course, not one of them these things happened. The shot was fired and from there, it all becomes a fast-moving blur; a dizzying array of sights, sounds and emotions. Each time, it seems that I remember something different; a new smell or sound or a new snippet of conversation. In the end though, that doesn't matter; the journey always ends up in the same place. I'm sitting here in his hospital room, waiting.

_Grow up, can't you say anything to him_ I question myself harshly. I struggle mightily to come up with the right words. What can I say? What can I possibly tell my partner? Swallowing heavily I look back down at him. Just looking at his face, I'm transported back to the scene; him lying there in his own blood and me begging him to stay alive. And I remember everything leading up to it; the harsh words, the shouting, the smoldering rage, all directed at him. It's too much, all of it.

"Javi." I manage to utter his name, but everything else I intended to say dies on my tongue.

Oh God, what have I done?

* * *

><p><em>Good? Bad? Otherwise? Whatever your feelings, thoughts or ideas, please don't hesitate to leave them and let me know. Even if I don't get the chance to respond to everyone, know I read and appreciate every review I get. Chapter 2 will be up soon enough.<em>


	2. Prelude to Tragedy

**Disclaimer**: _Castle_ and the recognizable characters are property of the folks at ABC and their creators who make a lot more money than I do. This is for pure entertainment purposes.

_First off, Happy 2015 everyone! Secondly, thank you for being so patience. Real life went into DEFCON 1 the last few months and I haven't had any time to write. But over the holiday season I managed to scribble this out. I hope you enjoy._

* * *

><p>Chapter 2: Prelude to Tragedy<p>

The events that got us into this horrible situation now seems so trivial, so stupid, and so mind-numbingly worthless that it is hard to wrap my mind around it. Of course at the time it was incredibly important, worth fighting my best friend over, but now… so f-ing useless.

Three days ago early in the morning, it all started pretty routinely…

"We've got a body." Javi calls out to me just as I was sitting down with my coffee.

"Always the case." I mutter, grabbing my coat and following him to the car.

We make small talk during the drive, mostly about the NFL games on last Sunday (I think the Ravens are a sleeper team to watch, Javi disagrees) until we reach the crime scene. Our banter is comfortable, familiar, and entirely normal. Beckett and Castle wave us over once we reach the scene and I'm trying to make a point to Javi about the game when I spot our victim. At that moment, everything stops.

The victim, a young woman of no more than 20, was brutally murdered. Beaten and strangled in fact. Unfortunately, that's not unusual or striking in our line of work. What hits me though, is who she looks like. Same blue eyes. Same blonde hair. The same build. Hell, even the same type of clothes. The victim is almost a twin for my sister Stephanie when she was 20. Not so long ago _this_ would have been Stephanie. I'm transfix by the image and a cold sweat trickles down the back of my neck.

"Ryan?" Javi notices I've stopped moving towards the crime scene.

"Ryan!" He says a little more forcefully, which startles me out of my trance.

"Huh? Oh, s…sorry Javi." I try to get the image of my sister out of my mind, but I just can't.

"What's wrong?" Javi asks me.

"Nothing, it's nothing."

"Come on bro…" He gives me the 'don't bs me partner' look.

"Javi, she's a mirror image of my sister Stephanie when she was 20. I mean, this girl could be her twin."

"Shit, you okay?"

"Yeah… I'll be fine. It just startled me."

"Alright, just let me know if you need anything." There's nothing but concern in his voice.

"Thanks Javi."

And that is what started everything. Our victim wasn't my sister thank God, but a college student, Ashley Cartwright. Ever since that morning, I haven't been able to get the image of her lying in that alley out of my head. Every so often in this job, there is a case that gets to you. Either you have a personal connection to the victim or something about the victim hits home. As much as we talk about not getting personally involved in our cases, I think it's healthy on occasion to have a case get to you. It shows that you aren't so jaded by this job that you've retained at least some of your humanity. The image of Ashley, or my sister in that alley has definitely stuck with me and I've been relentless in trying to catch her killer. Looking back, I admit that I've been acting over the edge about this case, but it's damn important.

The biggest break we've gotten in the case happened yesterday.

We began with the usual procedure. First was notifying the next of kin, who was Ashley's mom. This is always the most painful part of the investigation, and Beckett was the one who did it. It made my gut wrench to watch Beckett tell Ashley's mother and see her go through it. I've always marveled at the way that Beckett is able to get through notifying the family members. It's an awful, thankless job, and yet, she's able to do it. Just one more reason why she's damn-near the best Homicide Detective in the City.

Next came checking to see if Ashley had any enemies (the answer was no), and if she was having any trouble with anyone. That got us our first lead; Ashley was fighting with Benny, her boyfriend. At first glance, Benny's alibi seems rock-solid, so we started pursuing other leads. As usual, I pulled Ashely's financials, which turned out to be a lot more arduous than I could've imagined. I learned Ashley was a trust-fund baby with all of the complicated financial documents and lawyers to go with it. On top of that, she had this habit of spending money. Lots of money. Yesterday afternoon, her financial records started coming into the Precinct. I've been going through Ashley's finances and it's been brutal; she has several credit cards, some under an assumed name with different companies and she had so many red-flag transactions that it was easier to go through her entire records than just look for one thing. By 5:00 pm, I've barely made a dent in the mountain of financial paperwork.

During this case, I've noticed Javi's not so subtle hovering, his periodic glances to check on me, asking me how I'm doing more than usual. Every time there's a case that gets to me, Javier starts acting this way. I know why he does it, and usually I don't mind it too much, but this time it's starting to get on my nerves. What's worse is that Beckett and Castle have joined in on it too. Both of them have asked me how I am doing and I've caught them doing the same things as Javi. _I'm fine_; sure, I'm working harder than normal and yeah, Ashley's murder has really bothered me but I know when I should pull back.

I look over at the wall clock; normally it would be time to put all of this aside and go home, but I can't yet. I've got to get through Ashley's financials and find us a real lead.

I see Javi coming out of the corner of my eyes. He looks like he is already dreaming of the first after work beer. "Hey bro it's after 5:00. Ready to go grab a drink? Beckett, Lanie and Castle will be joining us at the Old Haunt."

The offer is certainly tempting, but I just can't. "Thanks Javi, but I'm not done yet."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I need to get through Ashley's financials. There's _got_ to be a lead in these records."

"And it will be here in the morning. Come on Ry, you need to get out of this office; you didn't even eat lunch."

"I had an apple."

"Whatever, you know that doesn't count. Have a drink with us and look at it with fresh eyes in the morning."

"No." I say with more force than I really intended. It has an effect though; the sympathy in Javi's eyes goes away and he's giving me a harder stare.

"Fine whatever, I'll see you in the morning." He says coldly and walks away, never looking back.

I watch him the whole time until the elevator door closes and he heads out of the Precinct.

"Shit." I mutter under my breath. I'm irritated at myself for making Javi mad, but darn it, why does he have to push so much? So I've been dedicated to solving Ashley's murder and I had a light lunch. What's the big deal? If it was Javi's sister, he'd want me working as hard as possible to figure out who was responsible. I don't get it. Whenever anyone else burns the midnight oil, no one raises so much as a peep, but the moment I do it, suddenly they think I'm half a step from going crazy. I'm just as dedicated to my job as anyone else so there are going to be some times when I work harder than usual. What's so strange about that?

Shaking my head, I try to put Javi, Beckett, Castle and everyone else out of my mind and focus on these financial records. I get situated and turn on my desk lamp, getting ready for a long evening.

It's 6:00 in the morning, and I'm finally ready to get some sleep. I finished with Ashely's financial records about two hours ago and have been typing up all of my handwritten notes. I want to do some more work but my notes are merging together and my computer screen is a bright, blurry mass that hurts my eyes whenever I look at it. I've been at this for hours on end and I'm thoroughly exhausted. I'm running on more coffee than the average person drinks in a week and I skipped dinner as well. I turn off the computer screen and head into the break room. The couch in the room is modestly comfortable, although right now I could fall asleep on a bed of nails I'm so tired. My head barely hits the arm rest before I'm out like a light.

It seems like only minutes later that a piercing, irritating sound erupts from my phone. I curse the very existence of the object as I blindly try to find it. After a few clumsy tries, I manage to get ahold of the stupid thing. Squinting at the too-bright screen I answer it without checking the caller id.

"Hello."

"Good morning Kevin Ryan."

I'm instantly awake. Oh crap this is bad. It's Jenny on the other end of the line. She never calls me by my full name unless she is really, really pissed.

"Jenny I…."

"Do you know what time it is?" She cuts me off before I even begin to try and explain myself.

"Um…uhh…" I try to read the time on my watch but the lighting is too dim.

"Its 7:00 am Kevin." She tells me in a very dangerous voice.

Crap, crap, crap I never called her last night to tell her I was working late. Oh God she is going to be pissed at me.

"Jenny I…"

"Don't apologize Kevin, I don't want to hear it." She tells me hotly. "I was worried to death about you! I had to call Javier and he had to tell me that you were working late, obsessing on this case!"

"Jenny…"

"I know you have a tough job. I know you could be in danger, I know you work odd hours. And I'm fine with all of that. All I ask for is that you _tell_ _me_ what's going on. Let me know if you are going to be working late. And do not, I repeat, do not leave me up worrying! I should not have to call Javier when you are perfectly capable of doing it yourself!"

"Jenny I…"

"I'll see you when you get home." She clicks the phone off. She never yelled or raised her voice. Her tone was low, dangerous, and teeming with anger. It would be much better if she yelled; I would know she got her anger out. As it is, I'm sure to endure another brutal tongue-lashing when I get home.

"Damn it." I curse to myself, throwing my phone onto the couch with probably too much force. I feel horrible about doing that to Jenny. I know how much she worries; we've had that conversation more than once, particularly after I've had a couple of close calls. She's never once asked me to think about changing jobs or scale back what I do. All she wanted is a phone call and I didn't give that to her.

I'm so busy giving myself a proverbial whipping that I don't even hear the door to the break room open and another person come in. At this time of the morning, it's probably Beckett. My head starts throbbing, morphing into a nasty headache, so I ignore the new arrival. Beckett will understand.

"Mornin' sunshine." A sarcastic voice calls out to me. It's Javi. "You look like you've had a rough night."

"Go away." I moan, waving my hand to dismiss him and using the other hand to rub my temple.

"You sure are grouchy in the morning aren't you?" Javi comments, refusing to let me wallow in my misery.

"Leave me alone."

"What happened last night?" He asks me seriously. "I got a call from Jenny and she was worried sick."

"I already talked with her." I grumble, not wanting to relive that particular conversation. "Thanks for telling her that I'm obsessing by the way, since she doesn't worry about me enough." I snap at him.

"Kevin." Javi is determined to ignore what I want and plow ahead with a soul-bearing, serious conversation. Under normal circumstances, I would be fine with that; hell, I'm the one who usually tries to get Javi to open up about what he's feeling. But not this time. I've been working for hours on end, I'm tired, hungry, and have a migraine the size of Rhode Island. Our victim keeps reminding me of my sister, my wife just tore me apart, and now my partner is trying to tell me what to do. I see his lips moving, but I'm can barely hear a word he's saying.

"We were talking at the bar last night and we're all concerned about you…"

"Javi, just shut up!" I yell at him, cutting off whatever it is he was trying to tell me. My anger at Javi keeps rising. He knows me well enough to recognize when I don't want to talk about something or want to be left alone, but he just keeps going. All I want is some time by myself. Why won't he just leave me alone? And who is he to try and tell me to calm down?

"You didn't even call Jenny!"

"My relationship with Jenny is none of your damn business!" I yell.

"Bullshit; she called me, not the other way around. All because you didn't call her. Kevin, talk to me, please!"

"Just leave me alone." I bark.

"It's personal to you, I get it." Javi ignores my command and presses on "But bro, this isn't normal or healthy. You don't act like this. If Captain Gates thinks you're getting too involved, she'll pull you from the case. We've got to follow procedure on this."

There is no way he just said that. After some of the shit he's pulled?! My anger at Javi boils over; I'm fed up with him babying me. "That's rich Javi, _you_ telling _me_ about following procedure. Now gee, where have I heard this before? Oh that's right, when you and Beckett went rogue going after Maddox! _I _followed the rules and you didn't speak to me for _day after damn day_ because you thought you knew better! You thought I was nothing but a rat! A Judas! A Quisling! You sure as hell have no room to tell me about going by the book!"

Stung by the unexpected assault, Javi doesn't flinch. "Are you even listening to yourself Kevin? You're obsessed! Ashley Cartwright is not your sister! You've made this so damn personal that you're acting like a total idiot!"

He's not done yet though, and he keeps plowing ahead like a bulldozer. "And don't play the 'I always follow the rules' bullshit with me! You sure as hell didn't follow them with Ben Lee after your piece was stolen or the shit you pulled when you went undercover as Fenton. But you know what; I had your back both of those times _because we're partners_. Yet you go off whining to the Captain instead of having my back! Is that in your code of honor too?!"

"If I hadn't gone to the Captain you'd both be dead! You always have treated me like a little kid who can't do anything without big bad Javi around!"

By this point, both of us are shouting full bore, unearthing every past grievance and buried sore point we can think of. It's brutal. Names like "Montgomery" "Tyson" and "Lockwood" are hurled about. It's beyond a rational discussion. Pointing at each other, yelling in each other's face, not even hearing what the other man is saying. We are very close to coming to blows when a third person enters the break room.

"And don't get me started on the best man bullshit! Real act of courage there!"

"That's the best you can come up with?"

"Just because you can't stand up for yourself one time…"

"Maybe if you had a real relationship…"

"STOP IT!" Beckett shouts, her voice overshadowing both of ours.

Both Javi and I stop shouting and look at her. "For God's sake, look at you two!"

I go back to glaring at Javi, my face red with fury. She better not ask for me to apologize to him, because I sure as hell am not going to. _He_ needs to apologize to _me_ for dredging all this shit up. All three of us are silent for what seems like a long time. I'm still glaring at Javi, but the coward doesn't even have the guts to stare back at me; he's gaze shifts from the floor to Beckett.

"Whatever you two are arguing about it can wait. We just got a lead; turns out Benny's alibi isn't as solid as we thought it is. You two go pick him up at his apartment." She hands Javi a piece of paper, which he snatches with more force than he probably intended.

Beckett isn't done yet though. "I don't care how it happened, but you two need to kiss and make up."

Neither of us says a word, either to Beckett or each other and we head out of the Precinct in silence.

* * *

><p>A crash of lightening echoes from outside, as the storm fully unleashes itself on New York City. That argument, I hate every second of it. I was being so stupid; all Javi was doing was looking out for me, and I threw that back in his face.<p>

When we got into the car to head off to the apartment building that was my chance. That was when I should have said "I'm sorry". I should've been humble enough to say those simple words. It was all that needed to be said. Driving to that place was the opportunity to make everything right again, to get us back to normal and be reconciled with my best friend. But no, I didn't do that. I let my pride and hurt feelings get in the way.

The rain lashes against the window of Javi's hospital room, drowning out the heart monitor and every other noisy machine in this damn place. Fitting that such a miserable, awful day would be ending on this note.

Which brings me back to the terrible moments just before it happened, as Javi and I got out of our car and headed towards the apartment…

* * *

><p><em>So, what do you all think? Good? Not so good? Either way, I'd appreciate any reviews, comments, suggestions or anything else you all might have.<em>


	3. It Happened So Fast

_**Disclaimer**__: Castle and the recognizable characters are property of the folks at ABC and their creators who make a lot more money than I do. This is for pure entertainment purposes._

_Thank you all once again for reading, reviewing, following or taking any sort of interest in this story. I really appreciate it. Here is Chapter 3, enjoy._

* * *

><p>Chapter 3: It Happened So Fast<p>

"Sounds awful."

"Yeah, it was one of the worst arguments I've ever seen between them."

As Beckett recounts what happened between Ryan and Esposito earlier in the morning, Castle involuntarily flinches. He's glad he decided to sleep in a little longer today and ended up getting caught in some of the morning traffic. He's definitely happy he missed the epic screaming match between the two detectives.

"Is it because of this case?" Castle wonders aloud. "I know it's gotten to Ryan pretty badly."

"That probably has something to do with it." Beckett agrees. After working with each other for all these years, the four of them had truly formed a family unit. And families know when something is wrong. It's as clear as day that the Ashley Cartwright case has gotten to their youngest member; all you've had to do is look at Ryan for two minutes and it becomes obvious. It's always painful when they get a case that hits one of the team hard because they all end up hurting. These types of personal cases are a brutal reminder of how tough their job really can be.

If Beckett and Castle are hurting, the two of them are acutely aware of how bad Esposito has been feeling at seeing his partner like this. Esposito is protective over all of them, even, rather reluctantly, Castle, something the author is well aware of, but there is absolutely no reluctance from Espo when it comes to Ryan. When they were out having beers last night Esposito mentioned his worries about Ryan multiple times, and concern seeped through every word. Castle distinctly remembers Esposito saying "I'm going to talk with him tomorrow. That damn bullhead can be so stubborn."

Castle lets out a sigh and takes another sip of coffee. Optimistic as always, he assumes that Ryan and Esposito will figuratively kiss and make up pretty soon. Those two are so close that he doubts they can truly stay mad at each other for long. He's about to offer this reassurance to Beckett when a sharp voice echoes throughout the Precinct.

"Detective Beckett! Mr. Castle!"

The two of them look towards the source of the voice; it's Captain Gates. Behind her standard iron gaze, there is an obvious undercurrent of worry in her eyes.

"What is it Sir?" Beckett asks, a sense of dread creeping into her voice.

"There's been an incident…."

* * *

><p>The drive to Benny's apartment is tense, uncomfortable, and most surprisingly for us, silent. I'm fuming in the passenger seat, pissed at the world. Jenny had a reason to be mad at me, I concede that; I should have called her. But Javi? No, he had no right to get like that with me. Knowing him like I do, I know he's not going to apologize. No, he's going to wait for me to concede that I was wrong and coming begging for forgiveness. That is not happening. I'm <em>not<em> wrong and I sure as hell am not going to apologize. _He_ needs to apologize to _me_, not the other way around.

The longer the drive goes on, the more I dig in my heels and the angrier I get. My mind starts going back to all of those incidents Javi and I yelled about in the break room and I zero in on when I went undercover for the second time as Fenton. Javi said he had my back during that case, but that's bullshit. Right up until the moment we were on the dock, he was trying to talk me out of it. Just like with this case, he thought I was too zealous, too involved, and too reckless. I get it, I'm the rookie on our team; even Castle treats me like the rookie for God's sake, but I'm not helpless. I was in the top five of my class at the Academy and I was undercover for over a year in the Irish mob. I know what danger is and what it's like to stare death in the face. None of that has happened on this case; I just worked a long night and didn't go out for drinks with everyone at the end of the day. It isn't a big deal, why has everyone gone so damn crazy over it? Do they really think I'm that helpless? Why don't they trust me to take care of myself?

As I sit smoldering in the passenger seat, I barely notice the drive to wherever we're going. Javi didn't show me the address and I didn't ask to see it. Looking up at the apartment, what strikes me most about it is how undistinctive it is. Typical older apartment building in New York, with nothing to distinguish it from the thousands of others scattered throughout the City.

Neither of us says a word until we meet up with the landlord and even then, Javi does the talking. The landlord leads us up to Benny's apartment. According to the landlord, Benny's been acting a little unusual lately, which makes my ears perk up; suspect in a murder acting unusually? Yeah, that's a big red flag.

The landlord knocks on Benny's door "You in here Benny? Some boys from the NYPD want to talk to you."

There is silence from inside the apartment. The landlord takes the key and unlocks the front door. "Alright, I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

We wait until the landlord leaves and Javi gestures for me to grab the door. I wait until he's ready and twist the nob open. Don't get me wrong, I'm still absolutely furious with him, but this is standard procedure, something that's so ingrained into me that it just happens, and for good reason; it keeps us safe.

The two of us enter the apartment and begin looking around. There's no one here so we both holster our weapons. It's a typical guy's apartment; very few decorations, messy, and unkempt. There are tell-tale signs that someone has been here recently, no surprise there, but I'm not seeing anything that jumps out at me. Of course that's mostly because I'm not really focused on the case. My mind keeps going back to our argument in the break room. Apologize? Not a chance. Hell with it, I'm not apologizing to him after what he said. Not going to happen.

"Did you hear that?"

Sure I did. What's up his sleeve now, some stupid prank? Some terrible attempt at making a conversation? He can be really, really irritating sometimes.

My lips are curling into a snarl to bark back at him when I'm suddenly pushed to ground, slamming into it. Before I can say a word or make any kind of movement, a shot rings out. Instantly, my gun is out and I pick myself up, scanning the area. Off in the distance I hear a pair of shoes clattering on the hard floor as they get away. I'm about to take off after them when the sound of a pitiful moan catches my attention. Looking down at the source of it, my heart stops.

There's Javi, lying on the ground. _No! No! No! No! No! _This can't be happening! I'm on the ground by his side in a second. Every bit of anger I was holding on to has evaporated in an instant. Blood is starting to pool out of Javi. _No! God no!_ The bullet entered into his abdomen. I immediately take off my coat and use it to try and staunch the wound, keeping the pressure on it.

"Come on Javi stay with me! You hear me? Stay with me!" I frantically beg.

His eyes are darting around as his mind tries to process what just happened.

"Look at me Javi! Look at me!" I quickly tap his cheek, trying to keep him awake and alert.

This catches his attention and now he's definitely looking at me.

"Kev…"

"Shh, save your strength." I pull out my cell phone and dial 911. It then strikes me that I don't know the address of where we are. Damn it! I waste precious time looking up the address on my phone, since Javi left the paper with the address on it in the car. I finally find the damned address just as the 911 operator comes on the line. The moment I hear the operator, I start rattling off our information. I can't hear anything she is saying except for the phrase "EMS are on their way." It's the only phrase that matters. I turn my phone off and return to my wounded partner.

"EMT's are on their way. Just hold on Javi!"

"Kev…" Damn it, what is he doing? He needs to save his strength.

"No, you aren't saying anything right now you got that? Whatever you have to say can wait, because you are going to be fine. You hear me Javier Esposito? You're going to be fine."

This time, he listens to what I'm saying, and he never takes his eyes off me.

Keeping the pressure on his abdomen with one hand, I grasp his hand with my free one.

He mumbles faintly. "You okay?"

I fight off the temptation to roll my eyes at him for asking such a stupid question. "_I'm _fine. Christ Javi, you're the one who got shot."

"Got you outta the way."

I didn't think it was possible, but I feel even worse now. The push, the gunshot, oh God. It hits me like a freight train; Javi pushed me out of the way of the bullet that's now lodged in his abdomen. I feel the blood drain out of my face. _He took a bullet for me_. I feel shell-shocked. My stomach is twisting into a horrible knot. God why did this happen?

"Stay with me Javi!" I keep my focus on my wounded partner who hasn't said anything for the past few moments, which terrifies me.

"Say something Javi! Say something!"

"Sorry…Kev…"

I never would've thought those two simple words would hurt so much.

"Stay with me Javi…WHERE'S THE DAMN AMBULANCE?!" I roar.

The faintest sound of a siren echoes in the distance. It can't get here fast enough.

* * *

><p>Beckett and Castle race to the scene, each of them trying to brace themselves for what they might see. They arrive just in time to see Esposito being loaded into the ambulance. Just behind them, Ryan is arguing with the EMTS to let him ride with them to the hospital.<p>

"Sir, we don't have enough room for you to come as well." One of them tries to tell Ryan while they finish setting Esposito up in the back of the ambulance.

"Then make room, I need to be there for him."

"Sir, we'll take care of him I promise."

Ryan isn't listening to them though. "That's not good enough. He's my partner, I have to be there for him."

"I'm sorry. We're taking him to Trinity Hospital, you can meet up with him there."

"Damn it…"

Before Ryan can get another word out, the ambulance door slams shut in his face. The blaring lights and sirens of the ambulance announce its presence as it races off towards the hospital.

Ryan starts hurling epitaphs at the retreating vehicle. Beckett and Castle approach the Irishman, who is looking absolutely furious, yelling at the ambulance. They catch the tail-end of his rant against the EMTs.

"Stupid, good-for-nothing, God-damn worthless sons-of-a…"

"Ryan!"

The Irish detective looks back at them, but in a sense, he doesn't. Sure Ryan is looking in their direction, but he acts like he doesn't see them. Beckett is startled at his appearance. He's carrying his coat, which has a large bloodstain on it. Ryan's hands are covered in blood too, and his face is a deep shade of red. His eyes are darting about frantically. All of those things are bad, but they aren't the worst of it. Underneath his anger, Ryan looks…lost and confused.

"Ryan!" Beckett tries to fully catch his attention. This time it works. Ryan's anger is almost physically radiating from him.

"They won't let me go with him! Why won't they let me go?" Ryan yells.

"What happened Kevin?" Castle asks.

The anger dissipates from Ryan. "I…we were…it happened so fast…" The Irishman rambles, his voice suddenly very meek.

"It's alright Ryan." Beckett tells him. "You can ride with us to the hospital."

"Our car…he was driving…I don't have the keys." Ryan can barely string together a coherent sentence.

"We'll have the car taken care of Ryan. Come on, let's go to the hospital." Beckett gently takes Ryan by the arm and leads the shell-shocked detective back to the car. Once the three of them are situated, Beckett starts the car and they start racing off.

Castle tries mightily to engage Ryan in a conversation and figure out what happened in the apartment complex, but it is futile. Ryan doesn't respond to any of Castle's inquiries. The Irishman just stares out the window, his mind far away from the car and only focused on an Operating Room at Trinity Hospital where his partner is fighting for his life.

* * *

><p><em>Good? Not so good? Either way, if you have an opinion or comment about this story, I'd love to hear it. I'll try to get Chapter 4 soon.<em>


	4. The Awful Truth

**Disclaimer**: _Castle_ and the recognizable characters are property of the folks at ABC and their creators who make a lot more money than I do. This is for pure entertainment purposes.

_Thank you all once again for reading, reviewing, following or taking any sort of interest in this story. I really appreciate it. Here is Chapter 4, enjoy._

* * *

><p>Chapter 4: The Awful Truth<p>

"Excuse me, I need to know what's going on with Detective Javier Esposito."

We haven't been at the hospital for more than two minutes before I'm at the receptionist's desk, demanding to know what is happening with my partner. If there hadn't been a woman in front of me asking about her husband, it wouldn't have taken that long.

The receptionist, "Cindy" according to her nametag, looks up at me before going back to her computer. "I'm sorry Sir, who are you?"

"I'm Detective Kevin Ryan. Detective Esposito is my partner." I flash my badge at her. It's very rare that I use my badge for any sort of personal favor like this, but these are rare circumstances.

The badge doesn't seem to impress Cindy too much. She glances back down at her computer and types something quickly. "I'm sorry Detective but all I can tell you is that Detective Esposito is in surgery. Please have a seat and one of our doctors will come talk to you when they have more information."

I slam my hand on her counter, startling her and everyone else around in the area. "That's not good enough! I need to know what's going on with Javi!"

"Detective please relax." She says in a calm voice that only makes me more infuriated.

Before I can really start to yell at her a gentle hand is placed on my shoulder. It's Beckett.

"Come on Kevin."

I open my mouth to argue with Beckett, but can't seem to find the strength to do so. Wearily, I let her lead me back to the seats that she and Castle had claimed. The writer has disappeared somewhere, I assume to make a phone call.

Speaking of phone calls, I have several very important, very unpleasant ones that I have to make.

"Hey Beckett…

"Hmm?"

"Did…did you tell Lanie?" I ask her timidly, unsure of whether or not I will have to shoulder that particular burden as well.

"Yeah I called her, she's on her way over."

A not insignificant part of my anxieties disappear after hearing that news. I dread thinking about what Lanie is going through right now; whatever their official relationship status, they love each other in their own way. And I will always be grateful to Kate for relieving me of the duty of having to call Lanie.

Even with Beckett having talked to Lanie, there are still two people who I need to call. I get up from my seat and head over to the window to get decent cell reception. Having found a quiet spot, I dial the phone number and brace myself for the conversation to come.

After three rings the other line picks up.

"I'm still mad at you."

"Jenny…"

Instantly her tone changes. "What's wrong?"

"It's Javi; he was shot at a crime scene."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry Kev. Are you at the hospital?"

"Yes, no news yet."

"Stay as long as it takes. I'm sorry Kev."

"Thanks honey, I'll let you know. I love you."

"I love you too."

After finishing my call with Jenny, I make the other phone call. If at all possible, that conversation is even worse. Listening to them cry and ask about Javi makes my stomach turn. They promise they'll stop by when they get the time. With both of those phone calls taken care of, I go back to our seats. Castle has returned with two coffees in hand. He hands me one of the cups, which I reluctantly take. Neither Beckett nor Castle try to talk with me. They must think I'm off in my own world, but that's not true. That would imply that I'm off thinking about something but I'm not. All I can do is stare into the cup of coffee; I haven't even tried to mentally process what happened; if possible, I'm going to put that off as long as I can.

After some interminable time a doctor comes into the waiting room and heads over to us. He doesn't look overly concerned with what's going on, but I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Are you all here for Javier Esposito?"

The three of us stand up, and I brace myself for what's to come.

"Yes that's us. What's going on?"

"You yelled at our receptionist." He scolds me. "So I was ordered to come out here." He looks like he would rather be getting a tooth pulled than be out here talking to us. "Like our receptionist said, your friend is in surgery right now. Our surgeons have been assessing the damage done by the bullet and are in the process of removing it. We'll know more once we're done. I'm sorry I don't have more to tell you." There is an enraging lack of concern in his voice.

"So you came out here to tell us nothing?" I snarl, my patience having long since gone.

The doctor gives me a disdainful look. "Would you rather I not come out at all?"

"I'd rather you do your job." The acid is practically dripping off of my tongue.

He is not intimidated by my threatening voice. "You must be his partner. Well, my colleagues are doing their job but it looks like you didn't do yours." He tells me haughtily before leaving.

Beckett goes after the doctor to give him a piece of her mind. "How dare you talk to him like that?!"

Castle stays, hovering close to me, anticipating that I would lunge after the doctor. Instead, I collapse back into my seat. I feel like the doctor punched me in the gut; in fact, it would hurt less if he actually had punched me. I can't go after him, because he's absolutely right. Everything I had been trying to ignore starts coming to the forefront. _I didn't do my job and that's why Javi is in surgery._ _I failed. This is all my fault_. _I could have prevented this…_

The awfulness of it all makes me sick. Without a word, I get up from my seat and race towards the bathroom. I'm barely able to make it to an empty toilet before expelling the contents of my stomach.

Kneeling on the cold bathroom floor, propped up against the toilet, dry heaving as my stomach is emptied, I'm the epitome of misery. I stay in this position, unable to get up and confront what's going on outside. Because outside these doors is the ugly, undeniable truth; Javier is in surgery because of me and my mistakes. He took a bullet for me, after I said all of those awful things to him. The thought makes my stomach retch. My self-loathing is off the chart right now.

What if he doesn't…I can't even say it. Even if he does pull through, how can he ever trust me to be his partner? Over some simple, stupid words, I was blind to the danger I put both of us in. This is all my fault. How can I ever look him in the eye again?

_I let my best friend get shot. I let Javi get shot._

Whatever was remaining in my stomach comes up into the toilet.

* * *

><p>Initially, Castle doesn't follow Ryan into the bathroom; he's too busy watching Beckett read that pompous ass of a doctor the riot act. By the end of it the doctor was at least chastened enough to look embarrassed.<p>

It isn't long afterwards that Lanie arrives in the waiting room. She immediately comes over to them. Beckett wastes no time in embracing Lanie, comforting her best friend. Castle notices her puffy eyes, leading him to conclude that she had already she her tears over hearing the news. This is confirmed in his mind when she doesn't cry while hugging Beckett.

After she's taken all the comfort she can, Lanie breaks off the hug. Beckett quickly updates Lanie on the situation, including their horrible encounter with the doctor. Lanie doesn't say a word, she just listens carefully.

"Do you remember that doctor's name?" She asks.

"I think it was Dr. Sanchez."

"I'll take care of him; I have some friends at this hospital. He's never going near us, or Javi, again." Lanie's voice catches on saying Esposito's name. Without a word, Beckett wraps her arm around Lanie again, and the ME clearly looks appreciative at her best friend's comfort. At the same time, Lanie continues to scan the reception area, looking for something.

"Where's Kevin?"

"I think he went to the bathroom." Castle replies. Glancing at his watch, Castle realizes that Ryan has been in the bathroom for a long time. "I'm going to get him."

The two women nod and Castle heads back to the bathroom.

* * *

><p>"Kev?"<p>

For a brief delusional moment I thought it was Javi, coming in to tell me that all of this was a terrible dream and everything is back to normal. That he was unhurt and had forgiven me and to ask if we could go grab drinks tonight after work. He'd gently mock me for losing my lunch, call me a wuss, and then help me up and act as if nothing happened. Because that's the type of person my partner is. I wanted so much for him to be the one coming in that it physically hurts.

"Kev, where are you?"

Of course it wasn't him. _And you know why it isn't him_ I bitterly tell myself. The voice belongs not to Javi, but to Castle. The heavy sounds of his feet hitting the tile echo louder as he gets closer to the stall where I'm at.

"In here." I tell him in a ragged voice. I feel Castle's presence as he comes into the stall and squats down beside me.

"You doing alright?" He asks with some trepidation.

"No." Earlier in the day, I would've snapped at him for asking that question. Of course I'm not alright; my partner got shot, is lying in this wretched hospital and it's my fault. But now, knowing that Javi is stuck somewhere between life and death, I have no right to yell at Castle or anyone else. Hell, they should be the ones yelling at _me_ for my stupidity and arrogance.

"Come on, you're going to catch a cold if you stay here much longer." He reaches out and grabs my hand and helps me stand up. The author waits patiently as I catch my breath and regain my footing. I try to make my way out of the bathroom, but Castle stops me.

"Look at me." He puts his hands on both my shoulders, forcing me to look him in the eyes. I can think of only one or two other times that I've ever seen Castle this serious.

"This is not your fault Kevin. You understand that right? This is not your fault."

"Yes it is." I mumble. "I yelled at him. I didn't have his back. This is my fault."

"No it's not. You couldn't possibly have known…"

"He asked me if I heard something!" I cut Castle off midsentence. "He heard something and I…I ignored it. I thought he was bullshitting me! If I had paid attention, I could have heard it too and seen the gunman! I could've stopped him!"

Castle doesn't say anything so I keep going. "The gunman…he was aiming for _me_ and Javi…he pushed me to the ground and caught the bullet meant for me! _He took a bullet for me!_" My voice catches as the horrible truth comes out. "He _was shot_ because I failed him. He…he…"

I don't fight it as the tears start coming out of my eyes. Instinctively, Castle wraps his arms around me in a hug and I start crying into his shoulder.

"He might die because of me…" I choke out as Castle tightens his hold around me, like a father would trying to comfort his scared child.

"It's alright Kevin, it's alright. He'll make it. He's strong." Castle tells me soothingly, trying to calm my fears. He makes a valiant effort, but it is unsuccessful, since the truth, the brutal, miserable truth keeps staring me in the face. I sob into Castle's shoulder.

"It should've been me…"

* * *

><p><em>Good? Not so good? Either way, if you have an opinion or comment about this story, I'd love to hear it. Chapter 5 is in the works. Stay tuned!<em>


End file.
